


A Longing Reunion

by annoyingcatbanquet



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annoyingcatbanquet/pseuds/annoyingcatbanquet
Summary: Sylvanas is dead, but that doesn't mean her heart has stopped feeling. Somewhere, behind the harsh mask she puts on in front of her troops, she grieves for what she's lost. A one-shot about what it's like to be inside the mind of the warchief and how the world has changed her.





	A Longing Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this a read! For right now, I'll only be doing one-shot fanfics due to some time restraints and other personal matters I need to attend to. I look forward to redoing my other WoW series and posting it here, but until then I hope you enjoy this! This fanfic was originally posted on blizzardworldzine.tumblr.com! Please download the zine to see my other work and the work of all the amazing creators: it's totally worth it!

She didn’t need to sleep, but sometimes she did anyways. There was a slight chance that she would be able to see him again if she just closed her eyes and let her mind drift; this was, of course, if the agonizing memories of hell didn’t catch her first. But when the odds were in her favor, she’d see him. His golden hair would be shimmering under the canopy of thick trees and a sun so bright she could swear it would never set. He’d smile at her, in that gentle way that young children do, the innocence radiating from his very essence. She could hear his lute, if she listened hard enough. Sometimes, she could even swear that she’d heard him singing.  
Lirath…  
Sometimes, she would sleep. But it was always to see if Lirath had come to haunt her dreams.  
Why do I torture myself like this?  
The Banshee Queen had so much work to do these days, especially now that she was Warchief. Since she was not a being that required sleep, should it only stand to reason that this game of pretend only got in the way of her goals? She knew it was a waste of time. Yet, she did it anyways. While she’d always sworn that the Windrunner clan was her past, she realized that her actions always betrayed her words.  
Things had changed the day Lirath had died. The youngest of the siblings, and perhaps the most passionate, his loss would always be mourned. How ironic, Sylvanas thought, that she would one day be ruling the very people who had killed him. This could be taken as a sign of betrayal, but to her it was an odd sense of justice. They would serve as tools for a greater purpose. Lirath no longer needed to be avenged. All that was left was broken memories and a rotten body.  
When Arthas had killed her, she had prayed that she would rejoin him and the rest of her lost kin. Instead, she ended up in the depths of an unimaginable hell. Her fury came back to ensure that the frosted bastard had felt it threefold. When she’d come back, perhaps a part of her hated him because he hadn’t killed her. He hadn’t allowed her the death every warrior seeks; not just one of glory, but one of reunion. To be with those they’ve lost. He’d denied her that, and originally she’d thought that having her revenge would be the key to self-fulfillment. But it wasn’t.  
It’s never enough…  
Nothing would bring back Lirath. Not even death. And, after recent events, it seemed that nothing would ever be right between her and her remaining siblings either. After all, she knew she was not deserving of trust or love.  
They had been through so much. Alleria had been missing in what felt like eternities, only to come back and chose the life of a void abomination. Then there was Vereesa… Sylvanas had her issues with Alleria, specifically after their little family trip, but Vereesa had left what little heart she truly had left broken and frail. Sure, the younger had apologized for backing out of their murderous plot, but the pain didn’t ease.  
It never eased.  
Killing Garrosh was a waste. It could have been easily done, not many would have blamed them even if they were caught. Yet her “Little Moon” had decided it best to leave the decision up to twisted justice. Sylvanas could not count on justice, nor did she care for it. Justice had never been sought for her, and therefore, she would never look for it. What mattered now was just continuing the game.  
Back at square one…  
Fighting the Alliance was getting tiresome. Did these blue and gold bastards ever give up? They could call her evil all they wanted; she didn’t care. At the very least she could face what she was. She could own up to the monster she was. But could they look at their own reflections and honestly say they weren’t the same? Humans, elves, whatever else had ganged up over the sea were no better than her people.  
There were many wrong things that they’d done, but she would never forget what they had done to her people. What Arthas had done to her people, to her home, was unforgivable. But to blame the dead who couldn’t even remember their own name was just as wrong. And once she’s helped them come to and break free, they were still damned for eternity. Just like her.  
Was that why Vereesa had never come to her before? Did her sister not love her the second Arthas had stolen her life? Was death such a rot that the life lead before was buried in the ground with the body?  
It was a question she often asked herself. No one had ever come for her. No one had ever come for any of them. Once they’d arisen back to the land of the living, their names and histories were suddenly placed on their shoulders again. Any crime they committed now was a testament to whom they’d been before. After all, it didn’t matter if they hadn’t a choice to begin with right? The blame was always on them.  
She’d watched the funny humans kick out what had once been theirs. She watched her rangers struggle to find their place in the world. Some never were meant for undeath; once they died, they should have stayed dead. To the living, it was always better that way.  
Perhaps it was, she was beginning to think. She was watching all the trusted Forsaken suddenly slip away. Sometimes they didn’t make it very far in the first place, sometimes death called them back to the ground, but now there was something else taking root in them. The bitter and cold they felt was something that misted the air around them. They were growing colder by the day.  
So was she. She wanted to take everything from the Alliance. If they wanted to continue this pointless feud, then so be it. What a simple fix it would have been if they had just left her alone; but no. They decided this to be their fate.  
She remembered her plot to kill Vereesa the first time. And then the time she’d had her scouts wait for the command to kill Vereesa and Alleria. She didn’t deserve their love, just like she didn’t deserve the dreams of their brother. Love was just another pointless thing that got in the way, despite the love for her family being the only thing she had left. She wanted them dead, as cold as her, because she was alone. If she was to be undead, she’d want them to be there with her. Suffering is not so bad when you’re not alone. If that was selfish of her, then so be it. She was a monster, after all.  
She would show them her might when she won this age-old war. The Alliance would fall beneath the Horde, and she would see to it that the ground would be fresh for graves.  
Just like her sisters, they too would eventually serve her in death.


End file.
